Joseph lay on his back, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling beams of his dorm.
The wood grain was uneven, faintly warped with age. A spider had woven a small thread in one corner, dancing slightly in the breeze from the open window. And yet, despite the small mundanities, his mind was calm.
It went well.
He let out a slow, quiet breath.
The Elder Council hadn't condemned him. They hadn't accused him of anything. No exile. No branding. No public trial in front of disciples or being thrown into a spiritual furnace to "test purity," like some of the sect legends whispered.
Instead, they had… observed.
They had watched, debated, then released him. Under scrutiny, yes. But not in chains.
And more importantly... the story hadn't broken.
The Hall of Jade Assembly looked exactly as it had been described in the novel—tall crescent windows, spiraling cloud motifs carved into the ceiling, floating lanterns that dimmed during council deliberation. The seven elders bore their same titles, personalities, even vocal quirks. Elder Kong's bluntness, Elder Mu's balance, Elder Shen's ice-edged poise—it was all there.
No major deviation. Not yet.
Joseph felt relief bloom in his chest like a breath he hadn't realized he was holding since entering this world.
Still, something tugged at the back of his mind.
If this world is so accurate to the novel… then what does that make me?
visitor? parasite? replacement?
Such thoughts spiraled his mind.
He had to shut his eyes.
No. There was no room for that kind of spiral. He was here, and that was enough. If he kept to the story, lived like Wei Shen did, then he would stay ahead of whatever this world tried to twist against him.
Survive the same way Wei Shen did. Rise the same way Wei Shen rose.
He fell asleep not long after, the hum of the distant wind against the outer walls lulling him into the first truly restful night he'd had since awakening in this body.
****
Morning came with a cold breeze and a sky the color of pearl.
Joseph rose before the dawn bell and moved through the exact routine he had memorized from the book:
Washed using the water basin by the window.
Dressed in clean outer disciple robes, sash tied properly—left over right, straight back.
Walked the path to the food stall in the courtyard and accepted the rice balls from the quiet attendant.
Ate under the same peach tree as the morning before, grimacing slightly at the dry texture.
Moved to the cultivation Hall for his hand stances and breathing cycle.
Performed the Fist Meditation Sequence, slow and balanced, letting his qi hum with just a little more fluidity than yesterday.
Walked the gardens and watered the flowers—each hall, no skipping.
The same steps. The same order. The same pace.
He would not deviate.
Wei Shen rose by forging his path through consistency and patience. Joseph would do the same—even if the rice balls felt like chewing chalk.
When he returned to his dorm just as the morning mist began to lift, he felt calm. Still. Aligned.
Then he saw it.
A scroll envelope was resting on his writing table, pressed beneath a small stone weight.
The seal was unmistakable.
Vice Sect Master Elder Cha's emblem—a coiling three-ring symbol stamped in deep green wax, the exact hue of the Assembly's official stationery.
Joseph's calm cracked.
He stepped forward, picked it up, and slowly broke the seal.
Inside was a folded parchment with a formal heading.
From the Disciples Disciplinary Committee
Through
the Office of the Vice Sect Master
To Outer Disciple Wei Shen
Joseph's stomach dropped.
Following the investigation of the events during the Mist Path Trial, and in accordance with Sect Protocols outlined in Volume III, Chapter 14:
Unauthorized Possession and Activation of a Treasury-Class Artifact,
you are hereby issued a standard disciplinary fine in the amount of:
30,000 sect credits
Joseph blinked.
Payment is expected in full within a period of three months.
Failure to meet this obligation will result in automatic weekly credit deductions from your account at a rate of 200 credits per week, until the balance is met.
You may submit petitions or appeals to the Outer Disciples Arbitration Office.
This fine has been reviewed and signed by:
Vice Sect Master, Elder Cha.
At the bottom was an ornate signature and another green wax imprint, verifying its authenticity.
Joseph sat down slowly.
He read the letter again. Then a third time. Then dropped it on the table and rubbed his temples.
30,000 credits.
His mind instantly did the math.
Weekly credit allowance: 200 sect credits.
Penalty: 200 credits per week.
Balance due: 30,000.
If he did nothing, it would take 150 weeks to pay it off.
That was nearly three years.
"I'm being punished for staying alive," he muttered.
He wasn't shocked. In the novel, fines were a common disciplinary tool—efficient, quiet, and designed to be just inconvenient enough to motivate behavior without shaming the sect.
Wei Shen had even paid one himself later in the story, for unsanctioned swordplay in the southern pavilion. But that had been a 4,000 credit fine.
This was different.
Joseph leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Okay… think."
He could:
Appeal it? Risky. It might draw more attention.
Accept the deduction? Possible, but it meant living with no income for three years.
Or… find a way to earn sect credits fast.
That thought lingered.
How did Wei Shen earn credits in the book?
There were three major ways:
Contributing to sect labor (chores, formations, patrols)
Winning duels or challenges
Completing sect commissions—tasks like demob hunting, herb collection, or escort missions.
The commissions didn't open until disciples reached Stage Two.
He was still in Stage One.
"Which leaves either chores… or fights."
Neither sounded appealing. Especially not as an outer disciple with no allies, no cultivation stage, and no recognized sword intent yet.
Still, one thing was clear.
He had a number now. A goal.
30,000.
And the sect wasn't going to wait.
He leaned back and stared at the ceiling again.
"I need a job."